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where he's headed. Sorter like the Professor that way. Take
me, now—I just sorter rock along, fighting in the clinches
and doing what comes to hand like a man will. You know
how it is-----"

" I reckon I do," Mr. Munn said.

"Well, Proudfit and the Professor, they're different.
They've got hold of some kind of comfort. But the kinds of
comfort a man holds to are different."

" A man better take what kind he can get," Mr. Munn said.

" Well, lately the old Professor's been asking the Lord for a
pretty special brand of comfort. More my variety than you
might take his to be," Doctor MacDonald said.

"It used to be we got the loving-kindness chapters both
morning and evening prayers, but lately he's been asking the
Lord to mix in pretty direct and smite the Ammonite. He's
been giving us the blood-letting texts, breakfast and supper.
Like this morning, about the horse and his rider."

Mr. Munn spat off the edge of the porch, and stared at the
spot beneath, where the splotch of saliva darkened a dried oak
leaf. " That'd suit me," he said, " but there's so God-damned
many horses and riders now over at Bardsville, and Morgans-
town, and all. I'd wear out some carpet with my knees, if I
reckoned it'd do any good."

" Well, it's been the hip-and-thigh stuff pretty regular with
the Professor for some time now," Doctor MacDonald stated.
" Just the front part of the Book."

At the sound of the door opening, Mr. Munn turned.
Cordelia MacDonald had come out. "It'll be ready in a
minute," she said, " if you aren't starved to death already."

" Starved?" Doctor MacDonald echoed, and laughed with
pleasure, looking at her. " Starved is the word for it."

She approached her husband, and stood beside him, her
hand resting lightly on his arm.

Mr. Munn watched the woman's face as she looked up at
her husband, who held his arm about her shoulders and
laughed in his pleasure and confidence. That look, surprised
on the face of the woman—a woman whom Mr. Munn